


The Dog

by ThatAnnoyingBella



Series: Grow Old Together, We Do [5]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Dog - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAnnoyingBella/pseuds/ThatAnnoyingBella
Summary: Ross saves a freezing, starving dog.





	The Dog

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a dream that I was a dog that the UMY Ross found and wanted to keep (specifically, a blue merle smooth collie, but that's irreverent). I usually avoid stories with Shatsome, since I find the idea of sexy-Sips to be horrifying (he's such a Dad that it creeps me out a bit), but he was an important part of my dream, so I kept it in. I like the idea that Shatsome becomes a thing very, very late into my head cannon universe, but I will never, ever write any scenes that even imply Shatsome being more than platonic/romantic. In my head cannon, it just doesn't happen.  
> 

It had been a rough morning for Ross. He’d woken earlier than Trott, Smith, and Sips, before the sun had even peeked over the horizon. He’d felt restless, and did the only thing he could think of - he went to the roof. He watched the sun rise, weakly lighting up the snow covered streets and rooftops, cars being started up and driven towards the city centre, and yet, still, he didn’t feel any better. He started thinking of his church, and how he hadn’t been to see it in a long time.  
He still felt guilty about that, but he couldn’t go back. Not now.

When eventually Ross did decide to go back inside, he realised that he’d locked the patio door and hadn’t brought the key out with him. Letting out a sigh, Ross focused his power on growing his marble fingernails into claws, and jumped straight at the brick wall opposite the patio. His claws sunk in slightly, and he scrambled and slid his way to the ground, the horrible sound of stone on stone filling the alley.

When Ross walked out of the alleyway between the two buildings and around to the front door of the apartment block, he thought nothing of swinging his tail behind him irritably. He was just about to step up onto the three pitiful stairs leading to the door of the building when he heard a sharp whimper from behind him. When he turned to see what had made the noise, he swore. Laying covered from head to toe in the snow she must have collected over the night was a large dog. Ross couldn’t tell what colour she was - her face was crusty with frost - but he could see that she had a long snout and button ears.  
Between her forepaws were two perfect drops of bright red blood, and Ross, realising that he’s nicked her with his tail, instantly felt terrible.

“I’m so sorry!” Ross rushed forward, and the dog tried to feebly jump backwards, being too weak to do more than flinch and stiffly move her front legs. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Shit. How are you even alive under all that snow? It must be minus 15 out here!” Ross fretted, using his long stone hands to gently wipe the snow fro the dog’s pelt. The dog relaxed under his touch, and he pressed a little harder, feeling the dog’s bones poke harshly through her coat, which seemed to be a dark colour under the snow.

“Come on,” Ross said, standing and patting his leg. When the dog made no attempt to stand, he inhaled in preparation. “Okay. Alright.” Ross bent at the knees, wrapping one arm around the dog’s upper torso, and putting the other under her rump as he effortlessly hefted her into his embrace. Ross held the dog close to his body, and tried to focus very hard on making himself feel more like the way humans felt - warm, soft, squishy. Ross felt his hard, cold stone exterior give way slightly, but he was too worried to perform a fully effective spell.

Ross lifted one knee, resting the dog’s weight on it so that he could use one of his arms to open the door to the building that he and his court lived in, an action that he repeated to open the door to the apartment. Ross could smell coffee, so he knew that either Sips or Trott was awake. Trott had been working furiously until very late into the night the previous day, so Ross expected that it would be Sips.

Sure enough, when Ross walked in and set the dog very lightly onto the sofa, a nearly bald head looked up from over the breakfast bar, newspaper in hand. “Whad’ya got?”

“A dog.” Ross said, pushing himself up and retrieving several towels from the bathroom, and pulling the little heater in the living room closer to the dog, flicking the switch on absently. Sips didn’t reply until Ross had settled again, wrapping the dog in towels.

“Where’d you get him?” 

“Her,” Ross corrected.

“Her then. I should have known you checked.” Sips retorted.

Ross looked over at Sips, and rolled his eyes, a trick that he’d learnt from Smith early after meeting the tall ginger. “I didn’t check.”

“Well then how do you know it’s a girl?”

Ross hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said, lamely. For a few minutes they sat in silence, the only sound that of the towel on the dog’s pelt, which Ross could now see was grey with black spots and a white neck. Tension was rising like a flood, and finally he had to break the silence. “She was sleeping out there. She was covered in snow.”

“She must have been there when it snowed last night,” Sips said, watching Ross carefully as the large, heavy man rubbed at the now sleeping dog’s ears with a towel, fascinated by the way Ross treated the dog like she could break at any moment. It was not common for Ross to be as outwardly gentle as he was in personality, hard as he tried.

“Yeah,” Ross replied, sadly, “I cut her with my tail. See?” Ross pointed to the dog’s nose. Sips didn’t bother looking.

“Ross,” Sips started, cautiously, “You know that Trott won’t let you keep her, right?” Sips watched as Ross’ face fell, and the wings on the gargoyle’s back pulled closer to his body, like a shield, protecting him from the fact he didn’t want to face.

Ross stared down at the dog, and felt tears well up. “But she’s hungry, and cold, and she’s all alone. Sips, I don’t want her to be alone.” Ross’ voice cracked, and Sips felt a pang on sadness hit him hard. Even after all these years, Ross was still haunted by the memories of being at his church, all alone, left to guard it all by himself. They had gotten used to some of the resulting habits - the over-protective locking of doors and windows, the needing constant reassurance, and the unsettling dislike for sleeping while “On the job,” but Ross’ extreme empathy with anyone who he perceived to be lonely was the hardest of the all.

“Hey, how about this,” Sips said, waiting until Ross looked at him, eyes glassy, before continuing, “I’ll see if I can talk Trott around. No promises,” Sips added, seeing the gargoyle’s face light up with hope and joy. 

“Thanks, Sips!” Ross grinned. Sips felt a flutter of regret, knowing that there was a significant possibility of him letting Ross down on this one. Despite his logic, however, Sips couldn’t stop himself from smiling back at the gargoyle. It was like watching a little kid, and the happiness on Ross’ face was almost painfully bright.

“Hey, why don’t you go buy some dog food and stuff?” Sips suggested. He’d rather that Ross wasn’t present for the initial conversation with Trott.

Ross looked up from where he was massaging the fur between the dog’s wide set eyes, frowning. “But she’d be all alone.”

“Hey, I’ll look after her. Besides, don’t you want to pick out a collar or whatever yourself?” 

Ross hesitated. “You promise you’ll look after her?”

“Of course,” Sips said, smiling reassuringly. “Here,” Sips reached forward to grab his wallet, pulling out some notes, “Go wild.” Ross stood up, taking the money cautiously, his gaze questioning.

Sips smiled. “Go on, you haven’t bought anything for yourself in ages. It’s not even really for you, anyway.” 

“Thanks Sips! I’ll be quick. Take care of her. I’ll be here in a second if anything goes wrong, okay?” At Sips’ nod, Ross bounced on his toes and skipped over to the couch, where his demeanour momentarily changed to give a very gentle pet to the dog’s ears, before opening the front door and locking it behind him three times. Just to be sure.

With Ross gone, Sips let out a sigh, giving the dog (who hadn’t moved from the tiny ball she’d formed on one end of the couch) a quick glance, and stood, knees cracking, to wake Trott. It was almost the time when Trott would be waking up after a long night, anyway, so Sips didn’t think he’d be upset. Usually Trott was glad to be woken if he slept in.

Sips stood in the doorway for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust to the soft dimness of the lighting, and taking in the sight of Trott, curled up, with Smith behind him, one large arm wrapped around his waist, and a leg hooked with the smaller man’s. Sips doubted that he would be able to get Trott out of bed without waking Smith, but tried nonetheless, pushing Trott’s hair back tenderly, and calling his name quietly.

Trott’s dark eyes blearily opened, his face scrunching up, a yawn (which Sips copied), a stretch, and the rubbing of eyes soon following. While Trott had been able to stretch with Smith holding him, he wasn’t able to stand. When Sips told him that they had to talk about something, Trott tried harder to stand, rolling his eyes as Smith groaned and tightened his hold, before he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Smith, will you get the fuck off, you annoyance?!” Trott snapped, making Smith frown and look up.

“What?” Smith asked tiredly, his voice low and husky from sleep.

“I can’t get up, and you’re squeezing my fucking bladder.”

Smith’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let go of Trott, pulling his leg back. Trott wasn’t sure if Smith was offended by his raised voice, and felt a bit guilty. “Sorry.” Smith made a soft, sleepy sound, and waved one hand clumsily, a silent gesture for, ‘It’s okay, I’m just too tired to smile at you being a princess,’ or, alternately, ‘Fuck off and let me sleep.’

Either way, Trott stood up, went to the toilet, and then trailed Sips, who was uncharacteristically silent, to the kitchen. He turned on the electric kettle, and reached over to get himself some bread.

“Uh, Trott, Ross brought a dog home this morning,” Said Sips bluntly, unsure how to break the news.

Trott froze, then dropped two thick slices of bread into the toaster, setting it to a high burn. “I presume that you told him that he couldn’t keep it?” At Sips silence, Trott turned around, glaring, “Sips, don’t tell me-”

“Look, you didn’t see him, okay?” Sips interrupted, “Besides, the thing was practically an ice-cube when he carried it in.”

“Sips!” Trott cried, anger writing itself onto his sharp features, “Now he’s going to be impossible! Why would you tell him he could keep it?!”

“Oi! I never told him he could keep it. I told him that I’d ask you about it. I’m not that much of a dick.”

Trott flinched, sighing, “Look, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Where is this thing?” Sips tilted his head over to the other side of the breakfast bar, and watched as Trott frowned at the dog. “Sips, are you really going to let him have a fucking dog?”

“Well,” Sips started, unsure, “We’d need to ask Smith, but-”

“Sips,” Trott said, pointedly.

“Look, I dunno Trott, it’s your decision.”

“No, it’s not. You’re the king of this court, it’s yours.”

Sips glared harshly at Trott. “Don’t start that shit. We’re equals here, and if you really can’t live with it, then I’ll shove it out the front door right now - let me deal with Ross.”

“Look, we can figure this out after we tell Smith, and after Ross gets home from whatever the fuck he’s doing,” Trott suggested, running his left hand through his hair, jumping as the toaster popped.

“Okay. For all we know, Smith hates dogs.”

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a longer form fanfic, let me know what you think, and any suggestions for scene writing (still find keeping a scene going and moving to a new one really difficult).


End file.
